Today, fresh, simple greenery adorned the end tables, and on the walls, posters with positive sayings and images of a wide spectrum of people were displayed alongside emergency exit strategies and the fire drill schedule for the fall. It even smelled nice.
I shouldn’t have been uneasy in the comfortable space, but I was.
Smoothing a hand down my fine cloth button-down, I reminded myself that I belonged here. Sure, I only half believed it, but I was wearing one of the outfits Ozzie had chosen for me, and it gave me a boost of confidence. I’d even spritzed on a tiny bit of the expensive cologne he’d given me as a belated graduation gift.
In a way, it was like having him there with me.
“Mr. Walker, come on in,” Dr. Gardner said, gesturing me into her office.
Dr. Gardner invited me to sit in one of the comfy chairs in front of her desk. Instead of taking her usual seat, she sat beside me in the matching chair. She started off with light conversation, then transitioned into how the previous school year had gone, along with my ideas for the upcoming year’s curriculum. It had been damn near impossible to get kids engaged with geometry while trying to keep up with the state’s draconian testing requirements, but Dr. Gardner liked what I was doing.
“It’s always wonderful to have new teachers with fresh eyes. You surprised me last year, actually.”
“Really?” My voice pitched up into an embarrassing squawk, and I wished I could disappear under the floor.
Was it hot in here? I tugged at my collar.
Oz had helped me put together work-appropriate looks that were comfortable, but there were still days when all this fashion felt like cosplay and I was convinced everyone could see the backwoods rube underneath.
Dr. Gardner, wearing a school T-shirt and nice jeans paired with heels, seemed willing to ignore my lack of vocal control. Her smile, at least, was encouraging. “Yes, really. Math was always a difficult subject for me when I was a student, but when I watch you teach geometry, you make me feel like it’s doable. Maybe not easy, butdoable.”
“That’s what Leo says,” I answered, flushing at the compliment.
“Oh,Leo.” Her amused eye roll told me she was as fond of him as I was.
I’d met Leo through my volunteer work at the Meeting House. He’d had a rough life and was living out at Lupe—the Guadalupe County Home for Teens—and he was one of my favorite humans, ever. Even if I did want to strangle him every now and again.
“He’ll be a senior this year, right?”
“That he will.”
He was almost eighteen, but given his history, I was impressed that he’d only had to repeat one year of school.
“Is it weird that I’ll miss him once he graduates?”
I shook my head. “Nah. I’ll miss him, too. I’ll have him in my shop class one more time, though.”
She nodded. “Speaking of your shop class…”
I fiddled my thumbs, stiffening against the coming censure.
“Last year didn’t go the way you wanted it to, did it?”
Shame settled in my guts. Dr. Gardner and I had met a couple of times over the course of the year to see what could be done to increase engagement, but nothing seemed to stick. I must’ve been such a disappointment.
“No, it didn’t. I swear I was following Mr. Paige’s curriculum, but I don’t know as much as he did.”
“Of course not, Mr. Walker—you’re a brand-new teacher. Frankly, I thought the fact that you were open about your lack of experience was endearing and a really great example for those students who worry about getting everything right the first rattle out of the gate.”
I raised my brow. That wasn’t the first time I’d heard her use a country phrase. “First rattle out of the gate? Where are you from?”
She laughed. “Texarkana.”
I whistled low. “And I thought Seguin was country.”
“Oh, it is,” she said with a sparkle in her eye. “My husband’s from here. College sorta smoothed out my accent and my language, but he says my Texarkana still comes out every once in a while.”
“Man, college didn’t do nothin’ for my accent,” I drawled, laying it on thick. “Maybe that’s because most of my classes were online.”
